Chapter 139:
Bickslow was cracking jokes at Freed's expense, hiding his nervousness with humor. His babies chirped along happily after him, dipping and diving overhead like birds too accustomed to humans giving them food. Evergreen fanned herself patiently and was doing her best not to lecture the two. They were in good spirits, excited about the Raijinshuu settling their differences and ready for their – hopefully tear free – reunion with Laxus. Ready for normal. It was a shame that wasn't fated to be.
Gajeel knew the feeling of uneasiness he had meant something. He'd felt it when he'd noticed Kahli and when he'd realized Ezal had been replaced, and countless other times when something bad was about to happen. Approaching his home, the feeling grew exponentially, setting his stomach twisting and writhing to the point he thought he might get sick. Instinct kicked in. He didn't know who exactly he was performing for; Evergreen who was keen to his mood swings, Freed who constantly looked down on him, Bickslow who could see right through him, or some other fourth thing that could be waiting somewhere unknown. His body marionetted by rules he set for himself in prison, in Phantom Lord. Back straight, exuding confidence and strength, he took the world in around him subtly and cautiously, all while pretending everything was fine.
No one else noticed the quiet of the street, but to Gajeel it screamed. There was no birdsong. He couldn't hear neighbors working in their yards or scent meals being prepared. There was no distant barking of dogs or the sound of neighborhood children running the street. There wasn't even wind. It was a distinct sort of silence that Gajeel knew well, one that usually foretold a predator was stalking nearby. It felt like all the world was holding its breath as it waited for him to figure out what was wrong.
He knew as soon as he laid eyes on the house that Laxus wouldn't be inside.
"What… is that?" Freed asked as they approached.
He saw their lawn first, his eyes drawn to the bushes and their gnarled, barren branches. Something dark smudged the walkway like spilled ink. At first, he thought the motion to it was because of his distance and the shifting of the light. It pulsed and jittered like a thing with a heartbeat, slithering in a living way up the walkway, towards their door. His stomach pitched violently. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. A dark fear came to life in his marrow.
Bickslow was amused, not hesitating in the slightest. Like a curious child, he snapped off the branch of a bush to poke at it. When it lurched up the branch, he wrinkled his nose in contemplative disgust. His eyes shot wide when it began rushing towards him. He jumped back, dropping it with a yelp.
"Oh nice…" Evergreen teased like a much wiser older sister, "Do it again."
Gajeel frowned as inkcap mushrooms bloomed down the length of the branch and then diffused into more of that black slime, eating it in the process. It fanned out in all directions, searching for more to devour, and then followed the rest that was crawling towards the door.
"The mushrooms…" Gajeel forced through his teeth, "…turn into slime mold."
"Slime mold?" Evergreen frowned, "Slime mold isn't that… aggressive."
"It ain't natural," Gajeel snapped and stomped towards the door. He didn't bother to watch where he was going. He trampled the writhing mess under his feet, ignoring the sickening, slick pops and squelches under his boots.
"Gajeel," Bickslow said, a forced lightheartedness in his tone, "you sure you should be walking in that or-?"
The hollow clattering of wood falling onto concrete unsettled Gajeel. With his heart in his throat he twisted on his heel. Bickslow was frozen on the walkway, blinking rapidly at his totems scattered on the ground. He jolted forward, cursing as he scooped them up before the mold could get to them. Their eyes were dark. They didn't giggle or chirp or speak.
"Babies? Babies?" Bickslow asked to silence, "Where the fuck are they?!"
Gajeel placed his hand on the doorknob and attempted to keep level-headed. Panic throbbed in the back of his head when he couldn't open the door. He pulled again and felt it shift angrily in the frame. He swore. He had to push it open. He nearly fell into his home with the force he employed.
The scent hit him first, the putrid smell of a shallow grave; rotten meat and the noxious brown slush from a ruptured corpse assaulted him, as well as the decadent scent of soft, fallen trees, the type that collapsed beneath his weight when he stood on them, churning with grubs and colored with mushrooms and moist blankets of moss. He choked on a deep inhale, trying to take everything in. The entire living room was coated in glistening black. Inkcap mushrooms were spreading around their home, slowly inching their way deeper into the house. They circled the railing of the stairs and disappeared down the hall towards Lily's room, bloomed farther into the kitchen. Slime coated the floor in haphazard strings, climbed up the walls, pulsed like the exposed vascular system of a sleeping creature. It was eating through the couch, the coffee table, and chewing an eerily human-sized hole in the wall also dotted with toxic mold. In the kitchen, he could hear a kettle's high whistle.
Darkness bled into Gajeel's vision. His heart clawed its way into his throat. In the middle of the floor beneath the silhouette on the wall, there was a puddle of dark blood. Cold sweat slicked the back of his neck as he eyed the distinct divot in the pooling of it, the outline of where a body had laid. There were marks cutting into it, four scores dragged through the slick. Four massive claws scooping a dying body from the ground to carry away. Once his eyes fell to it, he found he cared very little about the rest of the house.
Gajeel measured his calm there in the doorway, kept stock of himself carefully. Stepping inside brought with it the chill of walking into the shadow of a valley, or perhaps, like being swallowed by the pitiless mouth of a snake. But all he could focus on was the blood. There was so much of it that it could only be from a mortal injury, and dark like the deep maroon color of the black baccara roses that Laxus had spoken of so highly to him. A ring of mushrooms stood as sentries at the edge of it, a macabre fairy circle, steadily marching through it, turning it into more of that living, black slime. The expanse of it was deceptive as the mirroring pools in the bowels of a cave beckoning him to step in, taunting him with possibility, and the idea of drowning in the darkness.
He was terrified to breathe too deeply. Even the chance he'd taste the scent of Laxus clinging to the iron was crushing him. It couldn't be his… it couldn't…
He felt his boots give beneath his feet. He glared down at his shoes, realizing the mold had eaten through the leather.
"It's everywhere…" Evergreen gasped from the entrance.
Gajeel cautioned her back with his hand. Gingerly, he stepped from his boots and rested his bare feet on the floor. He curled his lip to the cold, cloying wet of the slime mold and felt it shift beneath him. It parted, exposing softened wood. Each step he took threatened to buckle beneath his weight. The rot was so extensive that he could see beneath the floors in places. The entire house creaked and popped and groaned as it was consumed and reclaimed, but nothing harmed him. Of course it wouldn't. Father didn't want to prematurely wound his chosen to die. The thought made heat spread throughout his chest, dark and bubbling with a mix of despair and anger.
Gajeel dragged his courage with him as he approached the blood, telling himself it couldn't be Laxus's. It wasn't allowed to be. But still his skin buzzed as he crouched down before it and dipped his two fingers into the viscous liquid, rubbing it against his thumb. He brought it to his nose, his mind going dreadfully blank as he took in a concentrated breath.
"What is it?" Bickslow's tone was murky and Gajeel realized he was standing close behind him. He could feel those maroon eyes boring into him. He wanted to claw them out of his face.
"Blood," Gajeel said, his tone lacking in relief or anger, "It's not his."
"How can you tell?"
"How the fuck do you think?" Gajeel asked, dripping with derision.
He heard a sound. A whimper rose weakly from deeper in the house, just under the screeching of the kettle. Gajeel followed it, eyes brushing over every shadow, every jittery movement.
"Gone…"
Gajeel whipped his head to the corner. It took a moment for him to make out the little black ball curled in on itself in the corner, and a moment longer for him to realize it was Lily. Gajeel drifted over to him, feeling caught in a nightmare. The little Exceed didn't notice him. He was shaking. In between whimpers of pain Gajeel could hear him speaking, but he could only make out every few words.
"Gone… He's…"
"Lil…" Gajeel whispered. His stomach churned when he received no response, "Pantherlily."
Lily's black eyes flashed up to him and he flinched deeper into the corner. He gazed up at him a moment, eyes tight with pain, and then he reached towards him. Gajeel scooped him up and cradled him against his chest. He smelled like rot, like forest till and bad meat.
"He's gone…"
"I know… I know." Gajeel consoled him, barely keeping his voice from shaking.
He saw Lily's tiny arm; black and purple and oozing infection. He could see the muscle jump as Lily dug his tiny paws into his shirt. Gajeel didn't think he'd ever looked so small before, huddled against him. He was nervous about his wound. It looked necrotic.
Gajeel threw open the back door and shouted, "Evergreen!"
The lithe woman was there in a heartbeat, her face paling at the sight of Lily.
"What happened? Where is Laxus?" she asked.
"He's gone," Gajeel said and delicately placed his friend in her open arms, "Take him to Porlyusica. His arm… there's something wrong with it."
"No."
The word caught him off guard. Lily was no longer crying quietly. In an unimaginable amount of pain, he was clenching his teeth and glaring up at Gajeel with determination.
"I can still fight..." he said, wincing as he shifted in Evergreen's arms, "My sword, it's… I can help..."
"With yer arm busted up, Lil?" Gajeel said coldly, "Like hell."
"I can!" he objected, "Just some bandages… and I'll be-"
"You can't." Gajeel stroked his fur. He rubbed comfortingly his ear, but he couldn't find it in him to ease the chill in his tone, "You've done yer best, Lil. There's no sense in ya gettin' yerself killed."
The fire in the little Exceed's eyes faded and he drooped, tears welling back into his eyes. He rubbed at his face with his uninjured paw.
"I'm sorry, Gajeel," he whispered, "I tried… I'm.. so, so sorry."
It was like a punch to the stomach, but Gajeel found some way to keep himself harsh and stoic. He didn't faulter, didn't buckle. He clenched his fists.
"Don't apologize, Lil." Gajeel mustered through a closed throat, "It ain't yer fault."
Gajeel felt the embers of hatred deep in his bones being fanned into flame. Ah, he knew how to hold this feeling in his hands, didn't he? To wield it like a knife?
He turned and marched back into his home, his mind set on going up the stairs and to his room. Each step made him feel heavy, heavier. His heart hardened and scorched black, a calm that was so violent in its stillness it dashed away inhibition, doubt, took its hold on him. They'd taken Laxus, just as he had known they would. And yet he didn't feel better, or vindicated, or even prepared. He felt like his world was cracking at the foundations. They'd taken him.
"Gajeel!" Freed's voice was trembling and distant, sinking into him like a dream, "What is this? Tell us what's going on! Where is-?"
"He's gone."
Saying it out loud was painful. It took his breath away and made his knees weak. But he was climbing the stairs, striding down the hall. He threw open his door and tore down the wooden box he kept hidden in his closet. He already had one knife in his boot but he strapped one to his other ankle as well. He grabbed the iron chord, wrapped and wrapped and wrapped it around his wrist, and cinched the ends together with a twist of his fingers. A ring of metal tools, lockpicks, and items he had more than once forced between his fingers to give his bare punches some extra bite.
"What does that mean?" Freed implored, "Gone where?"
"The Major's dad took 'im," Gajeel said and rummaged through the back of his closet.
As soon as he felt the rough, woven fabric of his old tunic, a nostalgic comfort sank into his soul. That well-worn cloth had been witness to many unspeakable things. How many times had he had bones broken and reset in it? No matter how many times he'd washed it, it always smelled like blood. It was heavy on his shoulders, with little tricks sewn into the seams. Putting it on felt like stepping into an old skin. There was a resoluteness to wearing it again, the knowledge he was willingly walking into a trap. Despite the dread, he knew what to expect, and it calmed him.
"Took him? You're joking, surely…"
"Ya see 'im anywhere, Freed?"
Gajeel pulled on an older pair of boots, heavy and steel-toed. How easy it was to pick up these pieces of himself he'd set down. Armor still after so long snuggly fit. A heart like a nine-pound hammer, and fists to match. His chest flared like a blacksmith's red-hot oven once his feet had begun peddling the bellows. Each burning breath had him craving the means to an end, the catharsis in ending life. He had known this day would come and yet he burned. They'd taken his light in this ugly, shit-hole of a world…
"N-no but… who could possibly…?" Freed was frozen in his doorway. His eyes were wide and brimming with dismay, "It's Laxus."
"Aye."
"Where are you going? What are you-? Gajeel!"
Freed made the mistake of grabbing onto his arm to stop him, and like a viper Gajeel turned. He slammed Freed into the wall hard enough to knock the wind from him. His eyes searched into Gajeel's for explanation and came up dreadfully short. All he was met with was violent stillness. He didn't understand what was going on, but could see something boiling in scarlet eyes, rising ardent and adamant as a barn on fire.
Gajeel leaned in close and snarled, "Ima tell ya this once, stay the fuck outta my way."
Gajeel released him and headed down the stairs. He walked through their rotting home, careful of his steps, and headed for the back door when a glint in the rancid mire caught his eye. A dark flash like broken glass. He paused and dropped his gaze.
"What about you?" Freed demanded.
"What about me..." Gajeel parroted, though his mind was far from the green-haired wizard.
"You're going after him," he said rigidly, that Fairy Tail determination bleeding into his tone, "I'm coming too."
Gajeel scoffed.
"If Laxus couldn't stop whatever caused this, you won't stand a chance on your own," he continued, "You need help."
"You wanna help? Then go be a good Fairy Tail Wizard and get Mirajane, get Gramps, get whoever the hell you can get yer hands on and meet me where I tell ya," Gajeel spat, lowering himself once again to the floor to examine what had been thoughtlessly left behind, "I ain't got time for yer bleedin' heart bullshit."
"He's our friend," Freed said, "We're coming."
At that, Gajeel's gaze flashed towards him. Behind him, looming like a shadow, was Bickslow. His head was tilted back, his gaze piercing into him. He didn't have the same fiery look of retribution in his eyes. He face was blank, carefully concealing some emotion that made his jaw tight. Gajeel scoffed again and looked away from them.
Gently, he lifted the knife he'd made Laxus from the ground. Well made, and strong, it didn't have a nick on it despite being slicked to the hilt in blood. He brushed his thumb across the dark metal, gathering cooled blood into a thick drop on the tip of his finger. He rubbed it between his fingers, coating them with an oily slickness. He smeared it against his teeth.
"Evergreen, tell Mirajane to meet us at the southern rainforest. We'll meet you there."
He straightened and grabbed a moist rag still sitting on the counter. Taking care not to miss a drop, he wiped Father's blood from the blade. He glanced over to Freed and Bickslow, the former of whom appeared stricken, and the latter braced as if about to be struck.
"We're goin' ta pay Major Davian Bishop a visit."
Again, he'd been plunged into total darkness. But he was not the man he used to be. He'd cut the darkness again, one way or another. Even if it meant finding peace in the ashes in his wake.
He'd get Laxus back or he'd burn the world trying. It was as simple as that.
The clouds overhead were dark and sickly green. The scent of rain entwined with the saline sea spray, making the air feel thick enough to cut with a blade. Neither Bickslow nor Freed said a word as they followed him down the quaint little street with its eerily perfect houses. The grass undulated with glistening silver, bent by the wind in a way that mocked waves. A dark figure clothed in military garb that was unusually stained slouched on the steps, head not lifting until they were at the edge of the property.
Gajeel stood on the lawn with Freed and Bicklsow flanking him. Their nervousness was loud, nearly enough to distract him. It made him agitated, shortened his temper. Bickslow's totems had been dreadfully quiet, hovering about the Seith Mage's shoulders like sentinels, waiting for their master's command. Between the three men on the lawn and the solitary creature on the porch, there was only the sound of the wind ushering the coming storm, a storm that Gajeel felt in his bones was unnatural.
His gaze flashed across the distant tree line. There was a distinct break in the rolling of the grass, like the wind parting as it rolled over a stone, and another not five yards from it. He didn't see Rut, not on the patio, nor leering out from any of the darkened windows. Gajeel took a measured breath, tasting the wind. Churning beneath the fresh scents of fall coming was decay and rotting meat, now distinct to him like a signature on a death certificate. It taunted him with its staleness, reminding him that time passed and he was running out of it. Laxus and Irena both had been gone for several hours now. He needed to move faster.
Major Davian Bishop stood slowly from where he waited on the grand steps to his home. His hand instinctively rested on his sabre as he tried to hold his head high. His eyes were yellow and unguarded, his face long and pallid. He looked tired, and worse yet, he looked defeated. Gajeel could see the slight tremble in his hand, but he had to hand it to the Major, he hid his terror well.
"I beg you to see reason..." Davian began weakly.
"Freed," Gajeel commanded, not moving his attention from his intended target, "a sound barrier."
"He's... a high-ranking officer..." he objected but fell quiet at Gajeel's cold look of expectation.
"All the better no one hear his screams and come snoopin' about, eh?"
"I don't want this," Davian continued, unable to stop the misery from seeping into his tone, "You know I don't want this. Laxus is my friend as well!"
Glittering purple magic lit up the ground as Freed weaved his spell. In seconds he was conjuring a wall of words that shivered their way across the lawn and encapsulated the estate. Gajeel rolled his shoulders, took a steadying breath. It had been so very long since he'd been made to do something like this... and the stakes were high. He needed to do this right.
"It took Irena!" Davian said, his free hand reaching for the sympathy he knew wouldn't be there, "I couldn't stop It... and clearly, you couldn't either. We should be helping each other, not fighting!"
"He runs, Bix, stop him," Gajeel said.
"Aye sir."
"That's what it wants, us at each other's throats, making each other weaker. Don't you see? Division, chaos, it breeds opportunity. And you're playing right into Its hands!"
A large drop of rain fell, followed by another, and another. An unseasonable chill leeched through his heavy tunic, his skin. The rain glossed the grass like an oil slick. Gajeel stepped past the runes without another look to his companions. Each step he took was weighted, purposeful. His eyes were trained on Davian and the way he clasped his hilt like a child their very last candle, warding away his darkness with white knuckles. Gajeel summoned iron, he summoned scales. Talons tipped his fingers. The closer he came to the house, the more he scented decay and blood and it made his head swim. It had been here... first. It had come for Laxus after taking Irena... just as he knew It would.
Davian's voice trembled, "You won't win this. You know that, surely. It won't allow it-..."
"Tell me, Major," Gajeel interrupted him, "Who are you more scared of? Me? Or your bastard brother?"
Davian's chest swelled. Dismay battled his fear. His eyes trailed down the curve of Gajeel's arms to deadly talons, how they glittered in the dying light. He swallowed hard. Thrill raced up Gajeel's spine at the sound of a sword rasping up a scabbard's throat. His fingers twitched, ready to hold destruction in his hands.
"G-Gajeel..." Davian brandished his blade protectively before him. Gajeel tilted his head to the side, narrowed his eyes expectantly. Telegraphing the words with his body alone. You should know better than that, Major. Davian bared his teeth like an animal in a trap, "K-Kurogane."
Gajeel chuckled darkly. Somehow, he kept the venom snuggly behind his teeth when he smirked up at him.
"Don't think twice," Gajeel said patiently, "or you'll be dead."
Gajeel moved. In the blink of an eye he was bounding up the stairs. Davian was just able to duck out of the way of talons that raked across the banister, splintering wood and sending wicked pieces flying. Gajeel twisted and lunged, eyes tracking movement meant to defy his sight. Davian nearly fell down the stairs from him, more focused on staying out of his reach than retaliating as Gajeel leapt after him. Another strike sheared into the dirt, leaving long tracks in the sandy mud.
Davian hissed, his glamour gone in his flight. It was an instinctual response, not one to inspire fear. A cornered cat trying to scare away what chased it.
"Come on, Major..." Gajeel snarled, "Yer hardly even tryin'."
"I don't want to fight you," Davian huffed, trying to catch his breath.
"Ahh..." Gajeel hummed like the idea had just occurred to him. He scoffed, "Then do us both a favor and die."
Gajeel lunged, bringing up his arm to catch the swift reply of Davian's sabre. The shrill scream of steel on iron scales rang out. Sparks flashed up Gajeel's arm as he raced down for the hilt. Davian caught his elbow and forced it down and away, using inhuman strength to try to get a handle on him. Gajeel kneed him in the gut, grabbed the side of his face, and threw him into the mud. Davian rolled from his reach as he stomped down, narrowly avoiding a blow meant to crush his skull.
The rain was falling harder, washing away the stench of rot and putrid flesh. Gajeel could scent something else in the air, now, dampened by wet earth and grass reaching for the skies. It brought to mind bodies in a river, holding someone under until their struggling waned. The chill in the air felt like Juvia committing murder... a startling sensation, and one he hadn't grown to associate with Father or Its children. The wind was in his favor. He knew he couldn't be wrong. He noted the distinct smell that always accompanied lizards and caught movement in his periphery.
Gajeel rushed Davian again. The glint of the tip of a blade made him tilt his head to avoid a precision strike. He felt it glance across his throat, confident in scales that didn't yield. He whipped his arm around and grabbed the chameleon by the wrist, drew back his fist and hit him squarely in the jaw. Davian wrenched free, nearly dragging Gajeel along behind him, and backtracked several paces. A shaking hand wiped blood from a split lip.
"I thought ye were fightin' fer your life, Major..." Gajeel grinned wickedly at him, "Don't seem like much of a fight ta me."
Davian offered him no reply. The chameleon's heart was pounding up into his ears as he stared the dragon slayer down. Red eyes glinted like a demon's at him, the sound of his claws clinked like chainmail when he moved. Striking the Iron Dragon felt like running his sword against a metal wall. Gajeel was unrelenting, a dark shadow that refused to budge even in the light. Davian parried another savage attack, pivoting from the way in an attempt to make him off balance. Gajeel fell for no such cheap tactic. He turned, crossed his arms before him just as Davian lunged forward with the tip of his sabre. His blade caught between Gajeel's wrists, sending a dazzle of sparks between them. Davian couldn't wrench his blade free.
Scarlet eyes glared up at him, "Is this really all ya got fer me? I've killed better men and monsters."
Gajeel curled his wrist around just as he dipped his hands. To Davian's horror, he grabbed his blade and twisted out from underneath it. He spun, ripping the sabre from his hands and sending it spiraling off to stab into the ground several meters away. Gajeel elbowed him in the throat, gripped him by the collar and slammed him into the ground. The air left Davian in a punched huff, his mind spinning as pain fluttered through his being.
"What's the matter? Yer life bein' on the line ain't enough? Yeah… I get that. Who cares if a sorry piece of shit like you is gone, eh? At least it's over then... Yer daddy can't use ye if yer dead."
Davian's eyes were muddled with rain. He wiped his brow and was horrified to see Gajeel standing over him, draconic eyes taking him in like a predator readying to pounce. He scrambled back, hands sinking into sandy mud as he stumbled in his haste to get back to his feet.
"But it ain't just about you, is it?" his presence was imposing, washing over Davian like the pouring rain. He could taste metal in his mouth when Gajeel strode after him. His mind fell on the image of Gajeel and Laxus sparring, watching as Laxus – Laxus of all people – became unsettled, distressed, realizing he was just being toyed with. Gajeel was proficient in murder. His goal is to end him as quickly as possible…
"Tell me, Major, what do ya think happens to Irena if I kill you here?"
Davian's breath caught in his throat, "What?"
Gajeel shrugged, the corner of his lip quirking slightly in a sneer.
Davian finally dragged himself to his feet. He looked around wildly until he found his sabre. He sucked in a swift breath when he realized how far away it was and that Gajeel stood resolutely between him and it. He was pacing towards Davian leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world. Gajeel watched him, his tone like cold steel.
"Think about it. With how much she knows, ye think they'll just let her go? Say sorry 'bout it, the plan didn't work out, yer free ta go?" Gajeel leaned forward a bit, a look on his face like he couldn't believe Davian hadn't thought of this already, "With yer fucked up da? I don't think so."
"Shut up..." Davian hissed, horror pitching his stomach.
"It won't kill 'er either, will It? Knowin' she's alright wit' the idea of fuckin' 'round with the likes a you?" he curled his lip in disgust, a mockery of concern, "With ye dead, It'll need a replacement, ye think?"
"Shut up!" Davian yelled, baring his teeth, "Stop it!"
"She'll be bred like every other sorry whore It's gotten hold of."
Davian's guts contracted. He couldn't slow his breathing, a feverish warmth taking him over.
Orotrushit had sat on the sofa, barely containing his anger, his disdain. His eyes had fixed on Irena where she sat trembling, tears sliding down her face. It likes her, he'd said, you've doomed her by proximity.
Something inside Davian rapidly coiled, tight, tighter...
"Don't… don't you dare…!"
"You know what'll happen, and ye ain't doin' shit about it," Gajeel snarled.
"I tried! I did what I could!" Davian screamed at him, "It's too strong-!"
"Yer barely puttin' up a fight!" Gajeel snapped back at him, "It's always this with you. Ye think all it takes is power? Was it power that made you a fuckin' Major?"
Davian didn't understand what he was saying. Even Orotrushit had accused him of being idle, of not fighting back. But he had! What more could he possibly have done? Oros's words echoed in his head. You despair in your own helplessness while accepting your fate for what it is.
The feeling grew tighter. A noose around his throat. A tourniquet cutting off his blood supply. Coiling to the point of breaking…
"Zahir was strong too, but you didn't hesitate to run him through the chest!" Gajeel accused, slicing his talons across Davian's stomach, snagging clothing as he barely fled in time. Again he swung, and Davian felt a line of fire across his cheek. He was falling behind, horror digging into him as he realized soon he wouldn't be fast enough. Soon, Gajeel would gut him open and leave him bleeding on the ground.
"What happened to the creature that fought Zahir in the courtyard? What happened to the thing that summoned me, that called me, to fucking fight? Divine wrath and all that shit? Where's yer fire now, Major?"
The courtyard. Davian had run, run for ages and yet he could only remember the blur of mist. Something in him propelled him onward, through the Otherworld until he'd arrived at the prison. He'd run Hellebore through the chest with his sabre despite knowing he wouldn't survive his fire. Rage that ran red and rampant held him in its impossible grip. The first time he'd extended a hand to Kurogane, compelled him to feel it too. Bloodlust. Wrath. Give me your fire.
Oros had chastised Davian in the forest when he had despaired for his friend dying. For not knowing what to do.
Are you Timid Mouse? Or Broken Wing of the Sparrow? Does the mist follow when you pray for rain? What is your namesake?
You are the Wrath of Oros. Now, pray for rain.
"Ye'll fight for the prison but not the woman you love? It's like you want her to be held down and-"
It snapped. Anguish and rage sent him forward. He tore his taloned hand towards Gajeel's eyes, hearing the screech of them against metal. A flash of silver rebutted and Davian dodged it, again striking. He heard his claws tear against his chest, the smug humph that fell from Gajeel's lips. He leapt, aiming for a bared throat when silvery claws caught his hands, interlocking fingers.
His strength forced Gajeel backwards, leaving slick tracks of mud through the grass. Davian tossed back his head, his teeth clenched so tightly is jaw ached. His arms were shaking as he forced more power into them, his head throbbing. A faint glow lit the pouring rain as power effused through his being. A great might curled against his own, seeping into him as his feathers began to glow. Gajeel didn't look surprised at all.
Gajeel's voice was low and guttural, frothing up from somewhere deep in his throat, and brimming with pride, "There you are, you little man-eater."
A few things dawned on Davian at that moment. First, that Gajeel had wanted this. He wanted him angry, teetering on losing control. And that aside from calling forth his scales, Gajeel hadn't used any magic... and that he hadn't drawn his knife. He hadn't been trying to kill him, not actively, not yet. Through their touch, images flashed through Davian's mind. Divots in the grass that shouldn't be there, the scent that clung to the air that wasn't quite right. Davian's defeat and how easy it was to kill something that doubted itself. He'd known how he'd react, how to force him into reaction, and was already planning his next steps. Things the dragon slayer knew from quick observation, Davian hadn't realized. He'd been blinded by his own weaknesses. It had been taken advantage of.
Gajeel's grin widened until he was showing his sharpened teeth. Not a man. No one could call this a man. A demon, perhaps, a nightmare. Davian was floored. This was what made Kurogane so deadly, why he was lauded as Phantom Lord's best mercenary. How many steps ahead was he at this very moment?
"I thought I told ya not to think?" Gajeel purred and green light spiraled out around them.
Davian tore back as a myriad of spears erupted from the ground. Pain swiped up his arm, sliced his left foot all the way up his shin. He hissed as he caught the flash of them coming for him, dodging out of the way only to have one snag his boot and send him tumbling to the ground. He rolled back to his feet and pulled out his ritual blade. He couldn't catch his breath.
"You fucking bastard," Davian snarled at him, "You absolute mad man..."
"They took everything from me," Gajeel seethed, his smile dropping, "My light, the reason I had to keep living, to keep getting better..."
Davian drew the Ritual blade against his hand. Blood welled and fell from him. He didn't know what he was doing at this point, acting more on instinct than any coherent thought. His eyes darted to his sabre jutting up from the ground. He was going to make a run for it even though he knew Gajeel could see it coming from a mile away. He prayed he was fast enough.
"I'm going to get him back, Major, and I'll kill anyone who stands in my way... starting with you."
"Oros, my god of creation and destruction, I stand before you seeking your blessing..." Davian began, feeling power sweep through him. His hands were shaking, eyes darting again to his blade and back to Gajeel. The Iron Dragon followed his gaze. Green light spindled from his darkened shape, turning the air sharp. Davian's breath hissed through his teeth as he spoke faster, "Grant me harmony with the elements. Wind, fire, earth, and water as instruments of your will. Shine your light upon my path. Give me your fire-"
"That's it, come on!" Gajeel roared at him, eyes flashing, "Like your fucking life depends on it. And if that's not enough? Fight like hers depends on it. What fucking point is it surviving everything you have when you can't even save the people you care about, Davian?"
"Into the shadow with teeth bared!"
Davian burst forward with wind on his heels. He dove for the sabre, could have wept for his hand making contact with it. He pulled it from the ground, spun around just in time to see the flash of Gajeel's wicked talons. Sparks scattered where steel met iron. Davian's eyes widened as Gajeel's arm transformed into a wicked lance. He met Davian's blade again and again, brute force to the chameleon's caution. Davian's blade could shatter, he knew, and so when power once again began to build inside of him he sent it straight into the blade. It ignited with vibrant blue flame, and this time when it struck Gajeel's transformed arm, he saw his jaw tighten.
Gajeel whipped his leg around and kicked him square in the stomach. Davian cried out, stumbled. His leg still hadn't healed from Gajeel's last magical attack, and now he was leveling his transformed arm at him. Again, Davian stared down a flash of green, had enough time to realize spear tips were emerging from it, and dodged as one launched at him. Again and again, they narrowly missed him, striking just above or below. Gajeel's bloody gaze, however, never wavered from him no matter how quickly he moved, anticipating where he'd run to next.
I should be dead, Davian thought ruefully, I should have been dead ages ago.
Quite suddenly, he felt the wind change. He crouched down, ready to bolt once again as he tried to catch his breath and understand what was going on. Power was coalescing, concentrating. The air drove backward, towards the dragon slayer who stood with fists clenched before him, taking a deep breath. Had he seen this before? It felt like a god was descending, like Father making Its presence known at the Temple. He didn't know what to do, what Gajeel was conjuring. Something like electricity flitted across the iron dragon's being, green and raging, charging something. Davian couldn't think of what to do, to try to stop him or brace for impact. He didn't think he could escape.
"I stand ready to be your instrument of renewal through chaos of battlefield," he breathed it more than spoke the words, conjuring as quickly as possible. He stood, staggered back as wind swept up behind him. Terror clutched at him, "Shield me with the Aegis of Ashes. Through your divine cycle of creation out of destruction..."
A blue shape began to form, a shield emblazoned with the feathered god, Oros. But he was rattled, his concentration frayed. It wasn't solid enough, sturdy enough. He held his sabre before him, slit his palm in the hopes fresh blood would help. Power surged but only slightly. He braced for impact. He could see the flash of Gajeel's wicked teeth as he smiled.
"Let me be the harbinger of hope on the battlefield. Into the shadow with teeth bared!"
Gajeel's voice cut through the pouring rain, chilled his very soul, "Roar of the Iron Dragon."
A storm of razors burst towards him. For just the barest of seconds, his shield held before shattering in brilliant shards. Davian screamed as his flesh was shorn with glittering shrapnel. It sent him to the ground and he gritted his teeth as he brought up his arms to try to at least hide his face. For an agonizing eternity, blades bit into his flesh and suddenly stopped. He gasped for breath, groaned as he stared at all of the thin slashes up and down his arms, every piece of him that was exposed burning. Behind him, though, was glittering devastation.
His mind couldn't quite understand it at first. The trees were shorn apart, some felled from the force of the blast. The ground glittered with dark silver, the earth gutted open with a massive scar... a scar that started after where he had been standing. But, how could that have been possible? How had he survived that? There was no way, unless... unless Gajeel hadn't quite hit him. Unless Gajeel had aimed above him, had just glanced him.
"What...?" he began, but every thought in him was dashed when a magic circle appeared around him.
Iron exploded from the ground, coiling around his arms, his legs. He tried to pull free but more bands appeared when he managed to bend them. Cold fear iced his veins. He was bound just like Unaven.
Gajeel was suddenly at his side, an icy, calculated look to his eyes as he drew out a familiar, dark blade.
"Gajeel! Gajeel wait! Please!"
He didn't answer, flipping the knife up and catching it again in his fist. Davian, delirious from pain, could have laughed from how theatrical it was. Even know, as angry and hurt as Gajeel was, as bent on taking his life as he was, he still had the energy to be showy. He remembered a time Laxus had been trying to make him feel better, making his boastful Fairy Tail promises. You are ostentatious, Laxus.
Gajeel is ostentatious. I mean what I say.
It dawned on him what was going on as soon as he heard the footsteps rapidly approaching. The knife plunging downward turned sharply.
Gajeel stepped to the side, eyes meeting another pair that had come out of nowhere. Kurogane felt nothing when the blade slipped with practice precision through the gaps of a ribcage, angled upwards. Brown eyes snapped wide with surprise, stared at Gajeel with – of all things – a spear in his hands. The air left his lungs, color fleeing as he realized he was dead.
Davian heard the crunch of a broken rib, unable to tear his gaze away. Kurogane looked the man in the eyes as his last breath left him. Observed coldly, with the same blasé look as a man observing an art piece they didn't understand. Those blood red eyes rocked across his face, noticed something and turned curious, making some mental note. The moment ended.
Gajeel drew back the blade sharply and a fountain of red burst from the wizard's chest. The scent of blood marred the atmosphere. Gajeel kicked him in the stomach, watching him tumble lifeless back onto the soaked grass. He drew up his eyes just in time to see another man with hands in front of him, a magic circle flickering into substance before him. Magic glinted thinly around him, and the wizard had just enough time to step toward Gajeel when a roar shattered the air.
A massive monitor lizard appeared from the depths of the forest, swept the mage in its maw and clamped its mouth shut. A scream of terror was suddenly snapped short. The huge creature tilted its head back and unceremoniously swallowed.
Just as suddenly as he had appeared, Rut's body lit up opalescent. Shimmering, his figure rapidly reduced to that of a large man... larger than the last time Gajeel had seen him. There was a notable discoloration on his stomach. A scar? It looked like what was left over from a deep laceration across his gut. The chameleon huffed. His dark tongue flickered out and back in again in disgust. He approached, yellow eyes boring into Gajeel until he was only a couple short paces away. Gajeel cocked his head to the side. He thought of Rhuntak.
"You get bigger... when you eat?" Gajeel asked.
"Ssso long as I have my houssse's blessing," Rut said.
Gajeel stared at him a moment, "How big do you guys get?"
His reply was a rumbling growl, "Unlesss you wish to learn from the inside of my stomach, releassse my little brother."
Davian had frenzied when the blood had been spilled. There were deep gauges in the iron that held him, but it had stayed firm. He now looked tired, gulping for air as his feathered hair became soaked with mud. Gajeel squatted down next to him, raising a brow as he watched him come to. The gold in Davian's eyes vanished and they focused on him.
"Welcome back, killer," Gajeel said.
"You... bastard," Davian huffed, his eyes rolling back as he relaxed into the ground.
"If I'd told ya, it wouldn't have been believable."
"I've spent my whole life pretending to be normal... you don't think I could have performed a bit in a sword fight for five minutes?" Davian snapped, but it lacked the gusto it was due. He was exhausted.
"Major," Gajeel said practically, "Yer shit at pretendin' ta be normal."
Davian gazed up at the sky drearily, "I am so tired of fearing for my life."
Gajeel levelled him with a sobering look. It lacked any softness that would allude to empathy, but at least he was placid, feigning calm, "I also needed to teach you a lesson."
"Oh? And what was that, Master Dragon?" he said sarcastically, "How trivial it would be for you to kill me?"
"That ye can use the things ya hate about yerself ta fight back," Gajeel said. Davian turned thoughtful, but didn't reply.
Once again, green light appeared. This time, when it vanished, so too did the iron holding Davian down and Gajeel's own glittering scales.
"Mavis's sakes..." Freed muttered. He and Bickslow had come up behind Gajeel as he helped Davian to stand, "...he ate someone... whole. He ate someone whole."
"Ya gonna hold it together Freed or are we leavin' ya behind?" Gajeel asked without glancing to him.
"No, no... that's... perfectly fine. Yes, an asset, eating people whole..." he continued, his tone jittery, nervous, "Um... the body?"
Gajeel looked down at the man he had killed. He drew out a cloth from his pocket and began wiping his blade as he thought of what to do. A sour smell began to pervade the area, a smell Gajeel first thought was the man pissing himself postmortem, but quickly realized wasn't quite right. Rut gave a repulsed snort.
"Smellsss rotten," he hissed, sitting down in the grass. His long tail curled around his feet.
Wounded, Gajeel decided, not scarred. It was the only explanation for the creature strong enough to swim against a waterfall being this tired after one simple action.
Gajeel looked down at the body. The wound he had inflicted no longer bled but instead oozed something dark and oily. Had it...? It had. In just the short time between Gajeel killing him and now, he already appeared to be bloating. The skin of the hands crinkled, soughing off at the wrists, the nails. The stench hit him, and he heard Freed and Bickslow both gag. It even caught Gajeel off guard, and he choked as he covered his nose and mouth. The dead man's skin turned opaque, tinged blue, and water began leaking from the corners of the mouth, eyes, nose. He recognized the signs immediately but didn't understand what was going on.
Like his home, it was as if the man were rapidly decaying right before their eyes, but not just any decay. Bodies left out in the elements didn't typically bloat like this. The scent wasn't just the saccharine of rotten meat. It smelled like the rain falling now, like a murky river. The dead mage's shirt ripped and peeled back from the yellowed skin, scored with bulging, reddish-purple veins.
Gajeel noticed darkness on his chest, over his heart. Carved - not tattooed - in the same way Davian's skin was scarred, was a lotus. A lotus? In all the iconography he had witnessed at the temples, on Davian and his brother, Oragathol'i, he hadn't seen anything resembling a lotus. So, what was this?
Gajeel noticed movement beneath the skin. Wriggling which grew more and more apparent. He sucked in a breath.
"Get back," he instructed just as the body ruptured.
"Oros's teeth," Davian gasped, repulsed, at the same time Bickslow said, "Bloody hell..."
They looked like worms, wriggling and coiling out of the cavity in a mad exit. Eyeless, pinkish ropes writhed out of the body and onto the ground, floundering. Gajeel curled his lip. He squatted down, snatched one from the ground with his finger and thumb to study it. Freed wretched.
It wasn't slimy, but sort of like a snake in the way it was softly scaled. He realized they were actually white, translucent, and the red were its veins showing through skin, giving the pink color. He let it wriggle in his hand, nearly as long as his forearm, before it slipped from his fingers and back to the ground. The writhing was weakening, as if they were dying as well.
"Eelsss," Rut hissed, not perturbed in the slightest as they slithered around him on the ground. At Gajeel's look, a clear demand for explanation, he continued, "Cave scavengersss from the cenotes… near the templesss, the underground."
Gajeel frowned. None of this made sense to him. He had expected Orotrushit to send warriors to stop him from killing Davian, but he was sure they would be chameleons. The fact that they were wizards threw him. The rapid decay he assumed had something to do with Father's involvement, but why did the body bloat with water? Burst with aquatic scavengers? Why not the mushrooms and mold that had eaten away at Lily and his home? The black lotus scar on the chest... it was strange.
He tilted his head back. The clouds above them roiled. Something about all of this was wrong.
Not that it mattered. It was all some version of Hell at this point, wasn't it?
"We need to move quickly," Gajeel said, drawing their attentions, "We've already wasted enough time."
"The next train leaves in-" Freed began, but Gajeel cut him off.
"Nah. That'll be too slow... Major, the way your brother travels, how fast is it?"
"The Otherworld?" Davian said, shocked, "You... you can't be serious."
"I can. I am," he stated, summoning a spear from the ground and grasping it tightly, "Is it fast?"
"I-I-I mean... it can be, if you know how to traverse it. But I hardly know how-"
"Do it," Gajeel said.
"Have you forgotten that's where Father resides?" he demanded, his tongue flicking out in agitation. The poor bastard at their feet was already devolving to no more than bone, "What's to stop It from some abominable thing while we're traipsing about in It's domain?"
"Why would It do something like that?" Gajeel asked dryly, "It wants us heading to the Temples. That's what we're doin'."
"We can't use magic there... in the Otherworld," Freed said, "Even my Jutsu Shiki, my Dark Écriture, I couldn't use them at your house. Bickslow... his totems..."
Bickslow opened his bag, allowed his totems to fly inside. He didn't say a word, just put them away stoically. The action alone made Freed anxious. He frowned but set his jaw, unsheathing his katana.
"Well... we have little choice if we're saving Laxus." Freed muttered.
"We'll make it work. That's what we do," Bickslow said, crossing his arms.
Davian appeared incredulous, looking at the two wizards as if they'd just said the sky was fuchsia, "This is madness."
"Rut," Gajeel said.
"Rutivak," he corrected, rising slowly to his feet. Gajeel could tell he was in some sort of pain, and it bothered him.
"Rutivak..." Gajeel continued, "Stay here."
"I can fight," Rutivak snarled.
"Aye... but..." he gave him a meaningful look and hoped the chameleon would catch on, "You should probably stay and take care of anyone who might follow us."
The lizard man growled, a deep sound that dredged up from his stomach. He bared his razor-sharp teeth. His tail wipped to the side.
"I. Can. Fight."
"Please," Davian said gently, placing a hand on his arm, "It's not a mark against your pride. You've done more than enough already."
"You're wounded," Gajeel said sternly, "Can barely stay on yer feet. Even I can tell at a glance."
Rutivak went quiet. A hiss slipped past his lips like a crocodile. He tore his arm from Davian and turned, lumbering slowly back to the ruined porch. He sat again heavily, refusing to look in their direction as he rested his arm protectively over his wound. Gajeel understood. He'd had this exact talk with Lily too.
"He tried to protect Irena. The wound was so deep, I thought surely he was dead when I…" Davian explained, his voice pained, "He's mending but I can only assume there's still something wrong… internally."
Gajeel shrugged. He lifted his iron spear and slung it over his shoulders, resting his wrists along it. Bickslow too took the one the other wizard had left behind, whatever strange influence on his body not having been extended to the weapon. He hefted it experimentally before tucking the long end behind his arm, holding it nearer to the head, ready to throw it if the need arose. Gajeel doubted it would.
"Let's go." Gajeel said, nodding to the Major, "Do yer thing."
Davian hesitated before letting out a tight breath. He sighed and then concentrated.
The rain pounded, effusing the air with a chilly humidity. Again, Gajeel was reminded of Juvia, but this wasn't simply water. There was a sheen to it, like oil. Where it puddled, it was dark. Gajeel frowned and tried to ignore the implications of it.
The world warped. A tear began near Davian that he reached out for, his hand scooping into it. As if he were simply drawing back a curtain, he widened it. Beyond the tear they could see nothing save darkness. It swirled and ebbed, much like the darkened patterns on the backside of his eyelids when he tried to sleep, as if shadows were churning into it.
Davian stepped in, clearly scared. Bickslow followed, and then Freed. Gajeel cast one last look to Rutivak who appeared almost pensive as he watched them go. He stepped through the veil, looked once more to the world he was leaving behind. His gut twisted. He turned to face the darkness, and the veil closed.
Rutivak sat on the steps. He leaned against the ruined banister and wondered how long he would wait. He felt very much like he did in his youth. On the fringes, in the shadows, waiting.
The little wizard, the dragon slayer, always had this commanding off-ness to him. Rutivak had always scented something strange on him every time they met. More than just being a dragon offspring, more than just being marked by Father. It was... powerful. A different power than the blonde dragon who blazed like a forest fire; unchecked, directionless, devastating. The metal dragon was pointed, cunning.
There was something about him that Rutivak could tell was necessary, even if he didn't understand what it was or why. A key. Father had found – and claimed – a key... but he was too dull of mind to know what to or even put words to the feeling. Davian was too far in the spectrum of human to sense it, lacking the animality to not overthink, not rationalize away, this sixth sense.
There was little he could do other than fight and yet now he couldn't even do that. A Yaoyo devoid of his teeth. How pathetic. Rutivak's stomach throbbed. He put pressure to his still healing wound. All he needed was a few more hours... he should have insisted.
Just then, something in the distance rumbled. Not thunder. There was no lightning. And then, equally distant, an alarm began to sound. Rutivak cocked his head, curiosity niggling at him. It was coming from the direction of the beach, the bay. Had the metal dragon foreseen something?
"Clever little thingsss..." he hissed, something in him twitching, excited. Take care of anyone who might follow, was it? Alright. He would.